Blood Crush
by Snickerick
Summary: But how can you help somebody if you can't help even yourself' Cloud-centric. Dark fic, set between FFVII and AC. AUish.


Okay, this is my first Final Fantasy VII fanfic here. I hope you like it :)

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

**Blood Crush**

In a dark night, you're strolling down the street, your eyes are examining the piece of paper in your hand. The lights of the city, the new city of Edge and former Midgar, are dim but you don't either notice or care. You scratch your blonde spiky hair the way you always do, still keeping your glance on the paper. You don't pay attention to anyone who passes you: there is a middle-aged, rather fat, man who holds his briefcase on his other shoulder in quite funny way; a young man dressing dark blue jeans and black leather jacket and smoking as he goes by; and a woman walking her white-brown dog which ears have bent and make two funny triangles. But suddenly, you lift your glance for a second. A young woman holds a flowerbouquet on her other arm and as she walks towards you, you slow your steps. Your eyes wide just a bit and you look slightly confused for a fleeting second. You feel a hard convulsion at the bottom of your stomach. But you know you've mistaken. You let your glance rest on her as she passes you, but then shake your head and continue your way.

It is strange, isn't it? Somehow life always manages to find a sore spot in you and throw the things you would rather forget right back to your face. When you've tried to just forget some things from your past, thinking that you can't do anything for them anymore, reminding of them hurt much more than you could've ever even imagined. It hurts like a stab right into the heart and a painful twist of the dagger in it.

But still, you pretend you don't feel any pain. You kill it, you hide it inside you before it chokes you. And there you just continue your way, looking like everything is just fine from the surface. But deep down you feel sick, you're just a mess. In the other hand, you want everyone just leave you alone. But still, you're craving for someone to notice you're not okay, someone to really ask you what's the matter. Only that you're too good in hiding your pain.

You continue your way, the street you're so familiar with and pay no attention to the life around you. You stop in front of the door you're so used to see every day. You take a deep breathe, crushing the piece of paper into your fist, and open the door; the door of Seventh Heaven. Inside the bar you're greeted by a significant frown which you kind of expected already. She brings her hands to her hips, staring at you like a mother who has waited for her son to return home at late night.

"And where have you been?" she demands, her voice low.

You just glance at her quickly and walk past her, not giving an answer. She reaches her hand as to grab you by arm, but she gives up and lets her hand fall at her side. She gives a sigh, not knowing what to do. She wants to help you, not let you fall into the endless abyss of your own guilt. She desperately seeks a way to get you open your tightly shut shell. The shell that you've created to protect yourself from the whole world, to disable everything from harming you ever again.

"Tifa…," a small and innocent voice comes from behind her. She turns around to look at a little girl whose eyes are gleaming with unshed tears. "Is Cloud sick?"

She crouches down looking away from the girl. She thinks carefully what to say to a 5-year-old, how to explain things. She knows that the girl is very concerned and doesn't want to cause worry to her. The 5-year-old doesn't have to worry about him. It is enough that she worries.

"…Yes," she begins and nods, mostly to herself as if she has realized something. "I think he is…"

The girl gasps slightly, "Is it bad? Will Cloud be okay?"

She places her hand onto the girl's shoulder and looks into the hazel nut eyes.

"You don't have to worry about it, sweetie," she says with a little more cheerful tone. "He'll be alright. Now, it's time to go bed."

She takes the girl into her bedroom and kisses her goodnight onto her cheek as she pulls the cover over the kid. As her hand reaches for the door knob, the girl's voice calls for her.

"Tifa…," the kid says with her small voice. She turns to look at her. "Are you sure everything's gonna be alright?"

She walks over and sits down onto the bed, "Listen, sweetie," she says quietly. "No matter how things may see to go wrong, always remember that sooner or later everything's gonna be alright. It can take weeks, months or even years, but after the darkness has gone, everything will be alright. Will you remember that?"

The girl nods a few times and wipes her eyes by her other hand, "Is Denzel gonna be alright too?"

The older woman wraps her arms around the weeping child and hugs her, "Shh…Denzel is okay."

"But there isn't a cure!" the kid sniffles.

"We'll find a way. Now, it's time to sleep."

She closes the door softly and quietly after her and leans her back against it. She sighs deeply closing her eyes, a deep frown written in her face making her look like she is having a headache. In a way she is, as she worries too much for the others. It is her duty; she is the one who keeps the family alright. She walks slowly to the next door and opens it carefully. The lights from downstairs throws a gleam across the dark room, as well as her shadow. The door makes a creak but it doesn't awake the sleeping boy. She sits down onto the bed and shakes the boy gently. The boy opens his eyes weakly, looking very ill.

"It's time to take your medicines, Denzel, but first…," she whispers softly. She takes a thermometer from the small dresser beside the bed and slips it under his shirt to his armpit. He shivers as her hand is cold against his hot body. She takes a spoon and pours a couple of drops onto it. "Now, be a good boy and take this…"

He doesn't object and takes the remedy so that he could drift back to sleep as soon as possible. She stays there beside him stroking his hair. She can't stand seeing the little boy like that; suffering like that. The innocent boy hasn't done anything to deserve all of that what he is going through. The fever and arthralgias have lasted for a few days now. The last night she had stayed beside him as he cried because of all that pain, and tried to soothe him down. She had felt very horrible too, like a mother who had to listen her own child's comfortless cry. But still she had hidden it inside her, focusing her attention on him.

She wants to assure him that he will be okay, that he won't die on this disease. But also she doesn't want to lie to him, to make his hopes rise over nothing. The medicines haven't helped at all; he is growing worse every day. It is hard for her to watch him growing even worse, she was like a mother who watched her own child dying on her.

She stays for a moment sitting beside him and strokes his light-brown hair, making sure he falls asleep again. She then stands up and quietly walks out of the room. She heads towards the next door, knocking it lightly. She gets a vague sneer as an answer and she thinks it's okay to walk inside. Your back is turned towards her as you sit at your desk, being as absent as ever. The room around you is dark, only the desk lamp turned on to bring light into it. She hesitates, but sits down onto your bed and crosses her slender fingers.

"We can't go on like this, Cloud…," she mutters, the words still clearly heard.

You don't make a single movement to show you've heard her, and she continues on.

"I know we have had a hard time. And we _still _have. And when I say we, I mean _all of us_," she lifts her glance up and stares at your blonde spiky hair. Her expression begs for you to react, to do or say anything. The worst thing you can now do to her is to remain silent. Which you do; you don't know why but you just can't bring yourself to say the words you would want to. Nor you can force them out.

She doesn't understand you, nobody does. There had been a couple of people who had, but they're gone. _Gone_, your mind says. _Gone forever_. _You're all on your own_.

"Cloud, Denzel has geostigma, you do know that!" she says, this time her voice louder. "If we won't do something quickly… He's just a kid, he can't take it for long anymore! He'll die!"

Instinctively you give a quick glance at your left arm, but she doesn't see it. Because you have hidden yourself from her. You can't release your secrets to her, you can't tell her how heavy the guilt that you bear is. You know you should, but you don't bring yourself to do so.

She gives up, and stands up sighing deeply and even a bit frustration is being heard in it.

"Cloud…," she says quietly from the door. "I really do hope that you solve things out this time too…"

Then she's gone and you're left alone, struggling between doing right or doing nothing at all. You know you should do everything you can to help the boy to survive, you want to give your everything. But once again you're disappointed to your incapability to do anything.

But how can you help somebody else when you can't help even yourself?

Your eyes are still locked to the piece of paper which you've been carrying along all the night. Then you give a glance to the banner on the notice board in front of you with the text: _Strife Delivery Service; You name it, we deliver_. You sigh and stand onto your feet. You have to do it, don't you? You have no choice right now.

There you are, on your way again. You drive across the endless road, the darkness swallowing the night-scene around you. You know it is a stupid idea to travel in such darkness, but you continue ahead anyway. Something tells you to stop, something that is lingering in the deep back of your mind. You park your motorbike near a pool you're so familiar with, and pace at it with slow and hesitant steps. The edges of your boots touch the water and you lean forward. Your expression is a bit shocked. You look down but there's no one. You can't see your reflection. Until…it shows you your pale face, that your just a shadow of the young man you used to be. Or more likely, the man you used to _want_ to be.

Your eyes look tired, and the shocked expression on your face doesn't help a bit. You look like you're ready to just go into the pool and end it all. Because no one can help you anymore, right?

Suddenly your muscles tense, and you turn around carefully. Your eyes widen and you're ready to run away. But you don't bring yourself to do so either.

You're surprised, aren't you? But still, you don't resist much, only your eyes are following. The flesh of the nape of your neck is sweet and tender, and it smells like lime or some other fruit. Your minds screams for you to run away as fast as you can, but you're paralysed. You're a sweet boy, do you know that? You don't resist at all. You feel sharp teeth piercing your flesh, and the mouth tasting the sweet blood of yours. It hurts for a fleeting second before everything goes dark.

A/N: So, there it is :) Note that there isn't any shippings here. This was kind of a dark fic, but I felt like doing something like this. I would like to know what you think of this, so reviews please..?


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